


run and whatever you do, don't forget

by EphemeralTheories



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EphemeralTheories/pseuds/EphemeralTheories
Summary: For one of the first times in his life, Goro Akechi didn’t want to run away.





	run and whatever you do, don't forget

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I really don't know what this is, beyond a weird deviation from prompt a friend gave to me ages ago that said something about two characters running into each other several times in their lives without really realizing it. It's really just a culmination of some late night musings about names and meanings and existence and I don't know if it makes any sense but here's a thing, anyway.
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha), dudes.

      Goro Akechi sat in the back of a cab, gaze trailing from the road before him to his watch, and then to an app on his phone with the latest update on the traffic jam that brought the car to screeching halt when he was already running ten minutes late.

       The hygiene of the driver wasn’t helping his patience, and before Goro even really knew what he was doing, he threw payment toward the gearshift, grabbed his briefcase and was navigating the crowded streets of Shibuya, his destination being the nearest subway station.

       Goro took a deep breath as soon as the brisk winter wind hit his face, forcing himself to recall what little faith he had in humanity.

       He ran away a few times in his life.

       Running away from his problems was something Goro was fairly familiar with.

       The first instance occurred in childhood when his mother said he could take two quarters to the crane machine in the supermarket after they finished gathering groceries. And what a problem it was, so that Goro ran off and got himself lost before his mother could catch up with him. 

       That instance was an accident and a boy his age with stormy grey eyes helped him find her again, giving him a prize he won out of the machine instead. The toy was a stuffed elephant. Even if Goro had originally wanted something else, he treasured the elephant given to him by a kind stranger all the same, having thanked him far before his mother could even remind him to.

       The second time Goro ran away was when his mother died, and social services took him to a place where no one knew his name. Goro had the elephant in his backpack as he determinedly marched up and down the streets of his hometown, to where, he didn’t know. Just not there, not in a place where his mother wasn’t around. A curious look crossed the one friendly face he spotted and the child pulled his guardian Goro’s way before their genuine smiles led him back to the orphanage.

       The third time he ran away, had been tossed between far too many foster homes. He knew none of these people could be parents to him, not when he still recalled the kindness in his mother’s eyes.

       A kindness he had once believed was so deeply imbedded in his bones. 

       How Goro feared those families would carve it out — and carve it out they did.

       Goro scoffed as he bumped into a stranger on the street, duffle bag hung over his shoulder. The teen, close to his age, apologized. He then gave Goro a handful of yen, who glared at him in response, and urged him to return home. The stranger warned him that it was dangerous to wander alone at night, ebony hair barely visible beneath a snow hat, cheeks and nose dusted pink from the cold.

       He didn’t visibly startle when Goro snarled that he hadn’t had the luxury of having a true home. He merely took pause, if only to amend his previous statement to say that Goro should return to wherever he was currently staying, or find a room for the night.

       Goro accepted the money and listened, if only so that teen would leave him alone. Resigned to the next three years of his life, this encounter left Goro all the more cynical than before.

       The fourth time Goro fled, he pledged it was for good. After all, at eighteen years old, university beckoned him to a place his couldn’t allow his past to follow.

       Significantly darker than the child who cried over a stuffed elephant (though the creature was safely stowed in his carry-on bag) he boarded a train — never to return.

       Now, he thought he could finally be free.

       With feigned pleasantness and a drive beyond all else — his personality did not favor that of anyone at university, though he found some sort of kinship in the forms of two young women, Makoto Niijima and Haru Okumura — the former of the two instantly taken with his persona, nearly intent on figuring him out.

       She had once said that he seemed lonely.

       He would never allow her the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

       This moment was the fifth time he ran away, out of the cab, to the subway, and to his destination. He arrived at the cafe Makoto and Haru frequented, which he finally found himself convinced to visit, a fashionable thirty minutes late.

       In the cafe, he spotted dark hair and stormy grey eyes behind the counter, the same eyes he remembered from his childhood. It thrust to forefront of his consciousness the image of the stuffed elephant that sat safely in his closet back in the one bedroom apartment he could barely afford in a city he still couldn’t find it in himself to call home.

An elephant never forgets, even if Goro didn’t want to remember.

He’d never confess that the encounter lit a fire in him.

       He ignored Makoto and Haru, instantly drawn to the young man who called to mind a past he was so determined to abandon. The two simply shrugged at the action before Haru continued a quiet discussion that Goro seemed to interrupt by entering the premises. 

       Goro didn’t acknowledge their reaction. Certainly, Makoto and Haru should be used to his aloof behavior after nearly three years.

       Goro approached the young man, who had turned his back only moments ago, likely preparing the orders of the two blonds he spotted entering the cafe right before him.

       The stranger turned to face him — but something just wasn’t _right_.

       It wasn’t as if Goro allowed himself to linger on what he would do if he ever ran into the child, that teen, the person who had shown hims such kindness when he was suffering, but he certainly hadn’t expected nothing.

       It was almost disappointing. 

       This wasn’t how he anticipated this meeting to go. There was no recognition in the eyes of the barista, no instantaneous shift of something in his form to calm the strife of his soul. The man was simply a person, one who didn’t recognize him.

       All the same, after a moment, Goro is not greeted with what he expected from what seemed to be a total stranger.

       “Hey, I don’t know you, do I?” The man asked, tilting his head in what appeared to be contemplation. He didn’t seem troubled by said curiosity, though, as it did little dissuade the smile curving the line of his mouth.

       Nonetheless, the smile this stranger wore tugged at Goro’s heartstrings. It reminded him so much of the child from the crane machine, the kid who tugged a man his way, and a teen on a day far too cold for either of them to be out in the weather.

       Goro shook his head, the fire in his eyes extinguished, the first apology he muttered in years passing through his lips. “Oh no, I apologize. I suppose I thought you were someone else.”

       The other man shrugged and slid into a persona fitting that of customer service, offering Goro the house blend, who was moments away from splitting, even as he glanced once over to Makoto and Haru, who had already waited so long for him to arrive.

       The sound of ceramic against the counter drew his attention to man who was serving him. The dark hair of that teen from years ago haunted him in the barista’s countenance. 

       Something may not be right, but that didn’t mean Goro was wrong.

       But, he supposed his disappointment showed in some fashion, a falter in the neutral expression that always painted his features, or perhaps the slight slump of his shoulders.

       For he was moments away from being off, running away and chasing ghosts again when the man’s voice sounded in this ears, the same smile pulling at his features.

       “But, if you’re not too busy, we could change that —,” The barista suggested, “The whole not knowing you thing.”

       Goro was quiet for a moment, a little shocked by the man’s boldness. Yet, Goro had bold himself — in approaching someone simply because they reminded him of one of the only people who had ever been kind to him in his life.

       The man scratched the back of his head with one hand, grinning sheepishly as a small laugh escaped him. “I’m Akira Kurusu,” He added, still awaiting Goro’s response.

       “Goro Akechi,” He finally said, a small smile pulling at his features as he closed gloved hands around the coffee Akira prepared for him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

       Something in his chest constricted at the kindness this stranger presented him with and he thought for once, that perhaps kindness needed not only be found in that of strangers.

       For even if this man was not the same as the child he’d seen periodically throughout his life, or perhaps even if Akira Kurusu simply didn’t recall Goro, Goro found himself suddenly certain that he didn’t want to forget. 

       For one of the first times in his life, Goro Akechi didn’t want to run away.


End file.
